


like summer's wind

by quiettoxic



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Beaches, Bisexual Female Character, Casual Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiettoxic/pseuds/quiettoxic
Summary: The woman who has been swimming past Angélique's house every day this past week says she has something to celebrate, and, well, who is Angélique to deny a beautiful woman some pleasure?
Relationships: Hungary/Seychelles (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	like summer's wind

**Author's Note:**

> I just don't know what to tag...
> 
> Anyway! You might be wondering what in heck this is, and believe me, so am I. I guess the thought was _if I can ship Sey with one member of the Gakuen swim club, then I can ship her with the other one_. That's all. :0
> 
> FEATURING  
> Seychelles - Angélique  
> Hungary - Erzsébet

She’s here again.

Little more than a dark speck among the waves, the woman makes her way in the ocean along the coast as she has done every evening for the past week. From her veranda, Angélique frowns, folding her hands around her teacup. The wind blows her hair into her face, and on the beach, the sand whirls haphazardly.

It isn’t quite swimming weather, she’d say.

The woman is actually visibly struggling more than before. Although she seems fine for now, the bright yellow of her swimsuit is disappearing between the waves more and more. Angélique puts her tea down to step off her veranda, pushing her hair away and walking down the beach.

If she walks just a little up the sand, she knows she’ll be able to see the flag by the lifeguard post, which was yellow this afternoon. Squinting into the wind, she makes out a red spot between the dunes now.

Well, _that’s_ not good.

As she turns back to the sea, she can’t see the woman for a long moment, but then she resurfaces, and Angélique waves both arms in her direction. The long cardigan she’d put on to ward off the evening chill flaps around her legs. Maybe it will catch the swimmer’s attention.

It seems to do just that, or maybe she was already making her way to the shore.

Angélique walks a little bit into the surf, but the woman makes it to the beach easily enough under her own power. Once on relatively dry land, she rests her hands on her knees and catches her breath for a long moment before she approaches Angélique.

The woman is a little taller than her and nearly all of her exposed skin—of which there is, naturally, quite a lot—is covered in colorful tattoos.

“Thanks,” she’s saying, still a little out of breath and while pushing her wet, dark hair out of her face. “I had no idea it was getting this bad.”

“The flag’s red.” Angélique gestures, and the woman squints, although she probably can’t see it from here, then shakes her head.

“I thought it was supposed to have stripes or something.”

“Red usually means danger.”

“Yeah,” she says, and smiles a wry smile, “but I’m colorblind.”

“Oh.” She’s never thought about it, but it does seem dangerous to have color be the only distinction. “Well, it—”

The woman shivers violently, and Angélique blinks, pulling her cardigan around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, would you like to come in and dry off, maybe?” Now, she gestures at her little house, nestled between the dunes, and the woman looks at it curiously. Her green eyes are a sharp contrast with the grey sky and her clumped eyelashes.

“Oh, god, please,” she says, not even hesitating in following Angélique up the beach. “I’ve never noticed this place before.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty well-hidden.” Angélique picks her tea up on the way in and closes the door. It’s no good out anymore. “I’ll get you a towel.”

She picks the fluffiest towel she can find, and the woman wraps it around herself gratefully, seawater dripping on the floor. It’s not the first time, so that doesn’t bother Angélique. What does bother her, is that she still has goosebumps, visible mostly on the patches of tanned skin not covered in ink.

“I—” the woman starts, but Angélique interrupts her.

“Would you like to take a shower?”

She blinks.

“You’ll just get colder this way.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

Angélique shrugs, and she laughs, eyes crinkling.

“Okay, yeah, you know what, I’d really like a shower.”

So she has one, and Angélique leaves her a bathrobe because she has no dry clothes, obviously. It’s not the first time in Angélique’s life that someone has probably thought her very naïve, but she just likes to think the best of people, that’s all. And although the woman looked strong—has to be, to brave those waves—Angélique can hold her own better than most people expect of her.

The shower shuts off just as she finally finishes drinking her tea, and the woman comes back into her little, cluttered living room moments later. She has much more color on her cheeks now, and grins widely at Angélique as she sits down on the couch she gestures at.

“You look better.”

“I certainly _feel_ better. I really thought that damn flag was supposed to have stripes.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and combs her fingers through it; the motion pulls at the bathrobe enough that Angélique can see a tattoo curling around the curve of her breast. “I’ve never really done sea swimming before.”

“I’ve seen you every day this week,” Angélique says, and the woman grins again. It _would_ be nice to know her name.

“Alright, _before_ this week.” She makes no move to pull the bathrobe back. “My name’s Erzsébet, by the way.”

“I’m Angélique.”

“Very pretty.” There is no elaboration on that, and Angélique bites her lip. “But, yeah, I’m just out here for a while and decided to give it a go. I used to swim at a pretty high level.”

“Well, welcome to the island. Are you staying long?”

Erzsébet shrugs, still smiling. She sprawls a little on the couch, legs splaying unconcernedly. If Angélique had to guess her age, she would say mid-thirties, but there is a sort of brashness about her that seems to fit better with someone her own age, in their early twenties. She supposes that’s what the island does to people, sometimes. It is electrifying. She eyes the woman’s forearm where she’s pushed the sleeve of the bathrobe up, where she has one tattoo in other colors than the blue and yellow Angélique can see; a band of rainbow colors circling her arm, encased by a thin black border. Vaguely, she hopes that means something.

“What brings you out here, then?” she just asks, because that’s much safer, surely. When she meets Erzsébet’s eye, the woman quirks her eyebrows, shifting her arm. Angélique bites her lip again, earning a grin.

“Actually, I’m celebrating.” She leans forward, still making no move to adjust the bathrobe.

“What’s the occasion?”

“I got divorced!”

Angélique blinks at her. Although she’s still grinning, she doesn’t seem to be joking.

“So— Was—”

“We’ve been separated for ages, but my ex-husband finally signed the damn papers.” And, when Angélique’s gaze flicks to the rainbow tattoo again, now even more curious what that’s about, “That’s actually covering up something dedicated to him. Thought it’d be fitting.”

“Oh my god.” Angélique laughs.

“Not that he minded,” Erzsébet does clarify. “He always knew I liked women.”

A momentary pause, during which she checks Angélique’s reaction. Angélique just nods, smiling crookedly.

“Right, that’s not why we divorced or anything. It’s more of a symbol of freedom, in this case. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Even if I can’t see all the colors.”

“How petty,” Angélique jokes.

“Petty is my middle name, Angélique. Anyway, I came here to celebrate that freedom.”

“So… Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll?”

Erzsébet barks a laugh, pulling her hair into a ponytail and releasing it again. More and more of her thigh is working itself free of the bathrobe. A tattoo of a snake curls around her leg before disappearing underneath the fabric, leaving Angélique wondering how far up it goes.

“More like sex, swimming and rock ‘n roll, if anything. I did go to a concert last week, and the sea is great.” She pauses, intense gaze sweeping over Angélique’s body. She’s wearing just her shorts and tank top now, having discarded her cardigan.

“So there’s only one thing left on your list, then.” She uncrosses her legs, watching Erzsébet follow the movement with keen eyes.

“Are you offering?”

“I’m here to help,” she replies. And, when Erzsébet just keeps _looking_ at her, “Yes, I am absolutely offering.”

Erzsébet parts her thin lips and bites the tip of her tongue, curling her hands into her knees. Angélique’s heart is beating in her throat, and her cheeks feel like they’re on fire, but she watches back steadily.

“Alright,” Erzsébet breathes, a rasp in her voice, and there’s heat in Angélique’s lower belly as well, enough that she presses her legs together, not trying to be surreptitious about it at all. “Okay, fuck. Yeah, I’m taking you up on that, Angélique.”

“Right now?”

She spreads her arms, shrugging, and the bathrobe slips off her shoulder.

“Okay,” Angélique says, her voice husky to her own ears. She’s no stranger to casual sex, but she doesn’t think she’s ever been so forward about it, and it’s exciting.

“Are there stipulations?” Erzsébet looks around. “You live here alone?”

“Yeah.” Her father moved away last year, leaving her alone in her childhood home.

“And no person in your life?”

“No one serious,” she replies. Erzsébet quirks her eyebrows, looking curious, but Angélique just shrugs, which makes her laugh.

“Fair enough. How _old_ are you?”

“It’s not nice to ask, Erzsébet.”

She narrows her eyes, the green piercing even in the low light of the falling dusk and Angélique’s single lamp. The intensity is enough to make her shiver, anticipation coiling in her belly.

“Twenty-three.”

“I got married when I was twenty-three,” Erzsébet says almost absently, touching the rainbow tattoo. Angélique cannot imagine getting married for a long while yet, although she definitely does want to, at some point. “Anyway, likewise to all of that, except I’m 37.”

She sprawls back again, quite dramatically. The bathrobe is barely even closed anymore, showing the jut of a hip and barely covering her other leg. Angélique bites her lip, heat thrumming though her, and starts sliding off her chair slowly. She feels Erzsébet’s eyes on her while she more-or-less crawls over to her and perches on her knees in front of her, close enough to smell that she used some of her soap, the scent of coconuts clinging to her skin. The woman’s legs are trembling, seemingly in anticipation like Angélique’s restless fingers.

“Oh,” she says, stilling, “I—you don’t have any diseases, do you?”

Erzsébet groans. “Fuck, fifteen years with the same man and I’ve apparently forgotten that’s a thing you need to ask. I don’t, I definitely don’t.”

“Good. Well, likewise, except for the marriage.”

At that, Erzsébet raises her dark eyebrows again, and her eyes widen soon after, when Angélique touches her fingers to her calf and traces them around the tattoos. She can faintly feel the outlines, she realizes, little bumps along Erzsébet’s skin. When she touches the back of her knee, she squirms away, and Angélique smiles, just running her hand further up her thigh.

“Why all the colors if you’re colorblind?” she asks curiously, running her thumb across a curve of the snake tattoo. Its scales are edged in luminescent blue, stark against the tan of her skin.

“Probably some sort of rebellion. It’s just red and green that I have problems with.” She’s still looking down intently, green eyes dark. Angélique shivers again, and pushes her hand up over her hipbone.

“My rebellion was not straightening my hair anymore,” she says, shaking her head enough that her springy curls brush against Erzsébet’s leg, making her squirm again, at least until the woman slides a hand into her hair to still her. In turn, Angélique pushes her own hand further up, underneath the sash keeping the bathrobe still somewhat closed.

Erzsébet smiles. She slowly pulls her fingers across Angélique’s jaw, urging her up until she’s leaning over her, hair falling around her face and casting whimsical shadows on Erzsébet’s angular features.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” the woman asks, and instead of answering that, Angélique closes the sparse distance between them, pressing her lips to Erzsébet’s. She smiles, tilting her head and pressing a thumb against Angélique’s jaw. There is a salty tang to her mouth, like seawater still clinging to her lips, and Angélique can’t help but sweep her tongue across her lower lip as she captures it between her own.

Erzsébet makes a low sound in her throat, fingers curling against her neck. The sound sends a shiver down Angélique’s spine, one that makes her want more. She drags her hand up, tugging blindly at the bathrobe’s sash until Erzsébet lets go of her face to undo the knot in it. Without really breaking the kiss—Erzsébet’s tongue hooking behind her teeth and her breath hot on her lips—Angélique yanks the robe open.

_That_ does make Erzsébet pulls away, a sharp gasp falling from her lips.

“Fuck,” she breathes, and starts working her arms free of the sleeves while Angélique sweeps her gaze across her uncovered body. She’s still sprawled out, Angélique standing between her knees, and makes no move to change that—in fact, she parts her legs more when Angélique touches her taut stomach, curiously studying the colorful ink there. Her own legs clench in return, and Erzsébet laughs breathlessly. Since her arms are free now, she reaches for her again, running soft fingertips up her arms, tapping her many freckles teasingly, and down again, until she grasps her wrists. Their gazes meet, and Erzsébet’s eyes are deep and dark. She quirks her eyebrows.

Amused, Angélique moves her hands up. She ghosts her left hand across Erzsébet’s ribs and up her breastbone, the woman letting go of her so she can cup the back of her neck. Her hair is slightly damp from the shower, clinging to her warm skin. Her other hand, Angélique fits around the curve of a breast, following the edge of the ink below it. Erzsébet’s areolas are surprisingly dark, nipples tightened, and Angélique swipes her thumb across one, grinning when that pulls another low sound from her, followed by a breathy laugh.

“This is great,” Erzsébet says, fingers tightening around Angélique’s wrist. “I think I forgot what it’s like to have sex with someone who doesn’t know exactly what you like.”

“Sounds pretty nice, though,” Angélique mumbles.

“Sure, but also— _Ah_ , a little boring, you know?”

She hums, leaning forward to kiss her again, swallowing the sounds she makes as Angélique’s fingers skim across her breasts.

Before long, her position starts to hurt her back, so she pulls away. Biting her lip, she considers what to do for a moment, as Erzsébet watches curiously, anticipation clear on her face. She’s obviously not one to hide what she thinks, or what she wants, and so it’s exhilarating to see the crooked grin that splits her face when Angélique slowly lowers herself, kneeling on one knee between her legs.

Erzsébet places one hand in her hair again, pushing it away from her face when Angélique levers herself on her hips, forearms resting on strong thighs, to press her mouth to her sternum and follow the curve of the tattoo cradling her breasts—a bird-like shape with faded yellow feathers—until she can push her lips over a nipple. Her tongue darts out. Erzsébet gasps, and her legs twitch under Angélique’s arms.

She pulls at Erzsébet’s hips a bit, bringing her closer, and she swears. Her hand flies up to grasp at her other breast as if to have something to hold on to. Angélique chuckles.

“Shut up,” Erzsébet mutters, but she’s still watching intently while she kisses down her stomach, the muscles tightening under her lips and tongue. Angélique drags her hands down, sliding over the woman’s hips, and down the soft inside of her thighs, not quite pushing at her legs, but Erzsébet opens them further anyway. She is biting the tip of her tongue when Angélique looks up at her, swallowing heavily. She smiles. Moves one hand closer to her core, running her thumb along the dip where Erzsébet’s thigh meets her vulva. Heat radiates off her skin.

“Can I?” Angélique asks.

“Can you what?” Erzsébet’s voice is breathy, not unlike the breathlessness when she’d just gotten out of the sea.

“Can I—can I eat you out?”

“Oh, yes, _please_ ,” she replies, very rapidly, but she doesn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed when Angélique quirks an amused smile. “My ex wasn’t a huge fan, so it’s been fucking _ages_ , Angélique.”

She pauses. “Like… The whole marriage?”

“No, but at least a couple— It doesn’t matter, just…” Instead of urging her to do it, Erzsébet frowns and starts tugging at the strap of her orange tank top. “Take this off first.”

Angélique does, almost hitting her elbow on the table behind her, which his obviously closer than she ever realized, but then she’s never really been in this position before. Not _here_ , at least.

“Better?” she asks Erzsébet, aware that her hair still covers most of her chest, but Erzsébet just tilts her head and smirks, sweeping her hands across her bare shoulders. She’ll take that as a yes. On her way back to her previous position, she runs her lips along the inside of Erzsébet’s thigh. This time, she runs her thumb down across the neat triangle of pubic hair like she never manages to get on herself, and presses it gently over her clit, pulling back the hooded skin covering it.

Erzsébet breathes a sound that could well be a moan, now again grasping one of her own breasts with one hand and letting the other one rest on top of Angélique’s head.

Because she can’t help herself, Angélique blows softly first, which makes Erzsébet’s legs twitch and gets her a sharp, seemingly involuntarily tug on her hair.

“Fucking—” Erzsébet starts, but she doesn’t continue, because Angélique does flick her tongue out, then, and she just gasps.

Humming in satisfaction, Angélique swirls her tongue around her clit before pressing closer, the tip of her nose touching the trimmed hair as she sweeps her tongue down, between her folds, and back up, running her lips over Erzsébet’s clit. The sounds that the woman makes are small, but no less exciting for it. Absently, Angélique runs a hand down her own body and presses down between her legs, where the thin fabric of her shorts is heated and damp.

Scissoring the fingers of her other hand, she looks up at Erzsébet while she licks between her folds, the muffled sweetness of her clinging to her tongue. Whatever is in Angélique’s eyes makes Erzsébet grin, her teeth digging into her lower lip. Her fingers tap a pattern against Angélique’s temple.

“You look like you’re having fun,” she says, sounding a little awed, and Angélique hums against her, watching her eyelids flutter on a groan.

She’s right; Angélique is enjoying it. She always likes making people feel good, not just in sexual ways, although she has to admit that the sexual ways are some of her favorites.

So she presses closer against Erzsébet, using both hands to keep her legs apart while she licks down, pushes the tip of her tongue into her briefly, and returns to tease at her clit. Her own hips buck involuntarily at the sounds falling from Erzsébet’s lips, the way her legs are trembling under her fingers.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Erzsébet gasps, hips moving up, but then she’s dragging her fingers insistently up Angélique’s jaw, through her hair, and when Angélique looks up, she jerks her chin.

“I’m not done,” she says, pushing her thumb down over Erzsébet’s clit and grinning when that makes her shudder.

“Yeah, I’m _aware_. Just let me see you.”

Reluctantly, Angélique stands. Erzsébet grins delightedly as she follows the shape of her body with her hands. She skims the sides of her breasts and rests her hands on her waist.

“Were you wearing a bra before and did I miss it, or…”

“These are my pajamas,” Angélique says, pressing her thighs together absently. The movement seems to draw Erzsébet’s attention.

“So, no underwear to bed?”

Biting her lip, Angélique spreads her arms a little, cocking her hip. Still grinning, Erzsébet takes it for the invitation that it is and reaches for the drawstring of her shorts. Briefly meeting Angélique’s eye, she tugs the knot loose and slides both hands underneath the fabric.

“Hm,” she says, dragging her hands down and tugging the shorts with them.

Angélique isn’t entirely sure what to do with her hands, so she traces the outline of a yellow flower on Erzsébet’s shoulder as cool sea air hits her heated skin.

The already sparse light is fading fast as the sun completely sinks below the horizon, hidden by the clouds, but Erzsébet’s eyes nearly glow in the lamplight, the green somehow unearthly. Angélique wonders if she knows how peculiar and fascinating her eye color is.

A gentle tug at her hips with one hand.

“Let me touch you,” Erzsébet says, her fingertips light on the inside of her thigh, tantalizingly close. When she tugs again, Angélique gets what she wants. She bites her lip. Nods.

When she takes a small step closer to Erzsébet, sliding her foot out of her shorts, the woman takes the opportunity to reach for her breasts, flicking both nipples with her thumbs and quickly following it with her mouth when a tremor runs down Angélique’s spine.

“I thought you wanted me to—” She gestures vaguely. All she gets in return is an innocent smile from Erzsébet, who presses her sharp nose against the underside of a breast. Angélique’s are slightly larger than hers. “Okay.”

Pushing her back by her shoulders, Angélique gets Erzsébet to make space for her to slowly kneel across her legs, gasping as the rush of air hits her. She has to resist the urge to clench her thighs again against how strangely intimate the position feels, heat throbbing through her.

Erzsébet doesn’t say anything, just continues smoothly, licking a pointed striped up between her breasts to the hollow of her collarbone, swiping Angélique’s hair out of the way to kiss the side of her neck, which tickles and makes her try to squirm away, giggling. Erzsébet laughs in return. She rests her hands on Angélique’s thighs, gently pushing her fingertips down as if in a massage, thumbs sweeping across the soft skin of the inside.

Tipping her head forward, Angélique kisses her again. She can feel Erzsébet’s hands twitching when she runs her teeth over her lower lip. She carefully bites down on it, just enough to pull a low, throaty sound from her. The way she kisses Angélique in return is messy but exhilarating, as if she hasn’t been kissed properly in years—and maybe she hasn’t. Angélique rocks her hips into nothing. At least, she thinks it’s nothing until Erzsébet touches her, somehow unexpectedly.

Two fingers slide down on either side of her clit before Erzsébet brings them back up to rub tiny circles around her. Angélique moans into her mouth, her whole body twitching at the light touch. Erzsébet pulls her head back to study her face while she continuously changes the pressure she puts on her clit.

“Good to know I haven’t forgotten how this works,” she says. The press is hard for a while, and heat shoots through Angélique.

“Seems difficult to for— To forget,” Angélique replies, deliberately rocking her hips this time, making Erzsébet’s infuriating fingers slip, and again when she puts them back.

“Stop—sabotaging me,” she says, pulling at her hip with her free hand. Angélique can’t help but laugh, although it turns into a moan when those fingers do find her clit again and begin rubbing hard and fast.

“ _God_!” she blurts, the heat rippling through her making her toes curl.

The only appropriate response to this is to give as good as she gets, so she does.

As soon as her trembling fingers push down over the thatch of hair and between Erzsébet’s folds, the punishing rhythm falters. Angélique’s, in turn, picks up. She puts her other hand on the back of the couch behind Erzsébet, who takes that as an opportunity run her teeth along her collarbone and latch her mouth on to the delicate skin of her neck, sucking a kiss into it. Angélique presses both her hips and her fingers down, grinding the heel of her hand over Erzsébet’s clit.

Erzsébet swears loudly, throwing her head back. Now, Angélique can get at her neck in return. There is water clinging to her skin from her damp hair, and she laps at it, pressing her nose into the spot behind her ear. Even beneath the coconut scent, she imagines she can smell the sea on her.

“Fucking hell,” Erzsébet breathes. Her hand has stilled but her hips are rocking insistently, the tips of Angélique’s fingers sliding across but never quite into the wet heat of her vagina. “I’d almost think you— _ah_ —you were the one who hasn’t gotten any in two years.”

“ _Two years_?” Angélique blurts, looking at her incredulously.

“It was a whole mess. Don’t you stop.”

Angélique doesn’t, but she does sit back and bat Erzsébet’s hand away to get a better angle.

“Hey,” the woman starts, trying to reach for her.

“Let me.” Her fingers are wet enough, but she brings them up to her mouth anyway.

“But I want—oh, _fuck_ , Angélique.” Erzsébet seems fixated, green eyes dark as she watches her run her tongue around her own fingers, and _god_ this feels dirty somehow. It coils hot in Angélique’s belly, makes her clench around nothing. She nearly touches herself instead of Erzsébet, but, no, that won’t do. She isn’t the one who hasn’t had sex in two years, after all.

Even though her legs aren’t spread as wide anymore, restricted by Angélique’s own, it’s easy to slide two fingers into Erzsébet, crooking them in her wet heat and watching her eyelids flutter, her hands clench into the robe underneath her.

The limited range of movement is frustrating Angélique, though, so she pulls her hand back slowly. Erzsébet looks up at her questioningly, of course, and she can’t quite fight the impulse to curl her tongue around her fingers again, making her groan.

“We should turn,” she says when she’s done.

Erzsébet frowns, then nods, getting the picture. She starts to move, forcing Angélique to move with her until she is leaning against the armrest of the couch with her legs spread out in front of her, a tapestry of colors and shapes. Angélique smiles. Shifts again, until she’s only kneeling over one of Erzsébet’s legs and she can splay the other one out. She dangles it over the edge of the couch.

“Much better.”

“Let me—” Erzsébet starts again, and she cuts herself off this time as Angélique continues where she left off.

“Later,” she mumbles, pressing one hand flat on her stomach while Erzsébet clenches around her fingers as she presses them easily back into her. She can feel the muscles move under her skin, under the intricately inked design underneath her fingers.

“Fine.” Erzsébet rocks her hips, and Angélique presses her thumb to her clit for a moment before she replaces it with two fingers of her free hand. At first, she barely touches Erzsébet, just barely sketches circles on her skin while she crooks the fingers of her other hand inside her, fingertips running along invisible dips and feeling her blood rush through her body.

When Erzsébet starts squirming and lets go of her own breast to reach for Angélique’s wrist, she changes tactics.

“Ah!” Erzsébet arches her back beautifully, blunt nails digging into Angélique’s wrist, leaving white marks on her brown skin, while she rapidly moves both hands. The leg that Erzsébet hung off the couch jerks up in tandem with the one Angélique is kneeling over. Erzsébet’s thigh brushes against her, and she can’t help the yelp that escapes her. Laughing breathlessly, Erzsébet pushes her leg up again.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Angélique gasps, faintly embarrassed even as she rocks her hips down. “I can’t _believe_ —”

“I know,” Erzsébet says. She bends her knee until Angélique _has_ to lean forward, so she does, and presses sloppy kisses to her side, to the swell of her breast. She can hardly move her fingers inside Erzsébet this way, but that’s okay, because Erzsébet is gasping underneath her anyway, her legs twitching and her chest heaving as Angélique keeps up a steady, fast pace with her other hand.

With one of the woman’s hands in her hair, Angélique mouths at her breast, flicking the nipple with her tongue and licking down to her breastbone, where a vine in black and yellow winds up to her clavicle.

“ _Fuck_!” Erzsébet gasps, her face flushed, and that’s all the warning she gets before her hips start bucking wildly, and she clenches hard around Angélique’s fingers. There’s a tug, probably involuntary, on Angélique’s hair as she sits up a bit, and Erzsébet doesn’t even seem to notice. She’s thrown her head back on the armrest and keeps arching her back while Angélique keeps rubbing her clit, pulling her fingers out of her slowly to push her hips down instead.

Again, she can’t help herself. She leans forward and licks between Erzsébet’s folds, just once, before she mouths at her clit until Erzsébet is pulling at her face and hair, gasping unintelligibly. The woman presses her legs together and throws her arm across her face for a moment, panting. She’s flushed all the way down her neck. Angélique grins, licking her lips.

Absently, she runs her slightly sticky fingers down her own body while still holding Erzsébet’s leg with the other, her fingers covering the wings of a bat.

“Fucking hell, I guess—” Erzsébet looks at her. “Hey, hey, let me do that.”

“It’s okay,” Angélique starts to say, but Erzsébet moves fast, sitting up and pushing her down on the couch in turn.

“ _Let me_ ,” she says again, her eyes bright in her flushed face and the strands of damp hair sticking to her neck. She kisses Angélique, messily, while she tugs at her until her neck is out of the awkward crick it landed in, squished against the armrest.

A hot trail of kisses is quickly but carefully wound down her body, Erzsébet digging her fingers into Angélique’s thighs to lift them and wrap them around her body. Angélique touches her shoulder blades—decorated with some kind of gnarled landscape in shades of grey with spots of yellow and blue—until she gets out of reach, mouth pressing over the edge of her stubbly pubic hair.

Erzsébet looks up, resting her chin on her stomach.

“Let me?” she asks this time.

“Of course,” Angélique breathes. It won’t take a lot, she knows that much; she’s coiled so tight in anticipation.

Eyes bright, Erzsébet ducks her head, presses Angélique’s hips into the couch, and pushes a hot tongue between her folds. Heat courses through Angélique, and she cuts off a yell, inadvertently kicking Erzsébet in the back, but she doesn’t seem to mind, because she continues licking and sucking without any pattern to it. She keeps Angélique on edge for longer than she had thought possible, until the building heat reaches her core and she comes undone with a stuttered gasp, hands flying up over her head to grab the armrest of the couch while she rocks through it.

Erzsébet uses her fingers for a moment, as if to make sure Angélique has really come, and that thought makes her chuckle breathlessly. She reaches for Erzsébet, who crawls over her to kiss her deeply, the ever-strange taste of Angélique herself clinging to her mouth. She pushes one of her legs between Angélique’s.

Rocking into it lazily, Angélique does the same for her. She can feel the wetness of Erzsébet on her thigh and tips her head back again, moaning contentedly. She lets her hands wander across her body aimlessly, and for a while, they silently rock against each other. Erzsébet pushes her nose against Angélique’s jaw.

“So I’ve still got it,” she mumbles, and Angélique laughs.

“Like I said, seems difficult to forget.” She pushes some damp hair away from her collarbone, where it was being unpleasantly cold and sticky. Erzsébet stretches, her whole body moving along Angélique’s, pressed against the back of the couch.

“Should use the bathroom,” she says. Angélique hums. “And get back, I guess, or the bed and breakfast man will send the coast guard looking for me.”

Angélique looks at her, studying her half-lidded eyes and lazy smile, and then turns to the window. It’s dark out now, and she can hear the sand rushing around the house, the waves crashing in the near distance.

“I could drive you,” she says. “Or—wait, you’re staying at Kostas’s?”

“Right, that’s him.” Slowly, she sits up, although she still slouches against the back of the couch and drapes her legs over Angélique’s thighs. “Do you know him?”

“Hm. I could call him, let him know you’re here,” Angélique mumbles. She props herself up against the armrest. “And I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow before you’re on your way.”

“You know what… That sounds great.”

Angélique smiles. Erzsébet grins back. Her green eyes are bright.


End file.
